


The Erotic Adventures of "First Responder"

by Caius



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Body Pillows, First Aid writes self-insert fic, Gangbang, Gun Fucking, In-Universe RPF, Lots of masturbation, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, One-Handed Typing, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sloppy Seconds, Sticky Sex, Wet & Messy, past genital mutilation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caius/pseuds/Caius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which First Aid writes self-insert RPF, featuring the Wreckers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Springer

**Author's Note:**

> [This is the poster on First Aid's Ceiling](http://tfwiki.net/wiki/File:Last_Stand_of_the_Wreckers4_Cover_A.jpg). [Arianne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianne/) told me so, and I believe it, absolutely.

> "You don't have to be gentle!" First Responder insisted. He sighed and clung to Springer's wide chest as wide fingers spread his legs and tested the space between them. He had been hot and wet and ready from the very moment he had been assigned to the Wreckers, so very very ready to be ravaged by wide Wrecker spikes!
> 
> "But you're so small," Springer said, and the fingers _teased_ at him, sliding in gently, and First Responder gasped, so close to overloading just around Springer's wide fingers. "I wouldn't want to hurt you."
> 
> "I can take it, please!" First Responder wiggled in Springer's strong arms, trying to get more inside, trying to get closer to the huge green spike between Springer's legs. "I want it..."
> 
> Springer groaned. "Frag, I can't wait to get in your tight little valve." His fingers pressed harder, deeper, causing First Responder to cry out and cling and drip with lubricant. 
> 
> "Then don't--please--! Please, Springer--" First Responder's little medic hands clung helplessly to Springer's broad chest, holding _on_ , holding himself back -- "I don't want to overload until you're inside me, please--"
> 
> \--"This might hurt, little medic--" And Springer flipped him over so easily, and spread him and then his huge, thick, spike slid in, and First Aid cried out in pain but it was so, so good--

First Aid tossed the datapad aside and grabbed his favorite false spike instead. He could finish his submission to the _Wreckers ~~De~~ Classified: Erotica Issue_ later. Deep in fantasy, he spread his legs wide and pressed the wide length between his legs, shoving it in deep while he stared at the Wrecker's faces on the poster above his berth. "Springer, yes, harder--" he groaned, taking the spike in both of his hands, bending double to drive it harder and deeper, losing sight of the poster in the process but he was too far gone in fantasy to care, offlining his optics to picture of Springer's broad chest covering him, his huge hands holding him down and his spike using him harder and deeper than his strength and self-preservation programming allowed him to do to himself. 

"Springer, yes!" He overloaded, the movement of the spike faltering as his mechanical systems locked up, then with a groan, kept moving it. "Yes, Springer, keep using me--please, overload inside of me--I don't care if I'm sore--give me to the rest of the team when you're finished--"

First Aid groaned, forcing another, smaller overload out of himself before the soreness -- not of his valve, but of his back and arms from the awkward position -- took over. He sighed, laying back, false spike slowly sliding out of him, and stared back up at the picture, wondering which of the Wreckers should take 'First Responder' next.


	2. Impactor

> "Impactor loomed over First Responder, no bigger than Springer but so much fiercer. "I see you warmed up the valve for me." 
> 
> "Please--" First Responder groaned, trying to spread his legs wider, helpless to stop his own fluids and Springer's from dripping out. But Impactor wasn't talking to him. 
> 
> Springer grinned, not bothering to tuck his spike away. "He was wet and ready before I even got into him. Maybe it's you who need some 'warming up'?" Even not directed at him, Springer's look of open lust made First Responder moan and wish he could spread even wider, drip even more. 
> 
> Impactor snorted, looking Springer over critically -- and even that was hot. "Wouldn't hurt. Get on your knees." He emphasized the order with a firm hand on Springer's helm, the other pushing down on Springer's wide shoulder. 
> 
> First Responder whimpered, mouth dropping open in sympathy, one small hand pressed against it as Springer knelt -- the whole room rocking perceptibly from the shift in Springer's massive weight -- and opened his mouth, so very very wide, for Impactor. 
> 
> First Responder craned his helm, half-sitting up to try to see what Impactor was packing -- it had to be big, right? -- but Springer's big head was in the way, swallowing Impactor's spike even before it extended, and First Responder could only imagine how big it was and how good it felt by Springer's eager sloppy slurping and the bulge in Springer's throat as he swallowed it whole.
> 
> Three little fingers pressed into First Responder's mouth, everything so small in comparison to Impactor and Springer, and he could barely even work them into his intake tube -- but he was sure Impactor could, sure he could push all the way down, stretch First Aid's throat the way he was stretching Springer's...stretch him so wide--  
> 

Mask long since retracted, First Aid groaned around his fingers, giving up on his one-handed typing to shove the other hand between his legs, teasing his valve only a moment before he pushed the false spike back in. He moved it slowly as he worked his fingers into his mouth, throwing his head back to push them in deeper, as if he had Impactor on one end and Springer at the other, filling him hard and deep between the two of them, two pairs of strong hands holding him in place while two wide bodies leaned close, joining in a rough Wrecker's kiss as they overloaded into his body.


	3. Roadbuster

>   
>  Roadbuster was huge and rough. He said nothing at all as he walked in, First Responder's spread legs and open, well-used valve all he needed to see. 
> 
> He poked one broad finger at the dripping valve. "Who?" 
> 
> "Just--Springer and Impactor...today." First Responder lifted his legs invitingly, since the huge Wrecker had trouble getting between them. "And now you?"
> 
> "Yes." Roadbuster opened his panel, huge spike only partly emerged and pressurized. But before First Responder could offer to help him get it hard and ready, he lifted First Responder's aft into the air, pressing the valve against his mouthparts. 
> 
> First Responder gasped and then moaned, as a long thin tongue extended, surprisingly gently, eagerly lapping up the fluids Impactor and Springer had left, covering the outside of the valve before delving deep, deep inside, almost as deep as Springer's spike (though not as deep as Impactor's). 
> 
> Even so, the valve was so thin as to be a tease, touching just a few nodes at once before pulling back, consuming the lubricant with single-minded intensity. 
> 
> Roadbuster's powerful engine rumbled with pleasure, and First Responder was terrified for a moment that that would be _all_ \--and then, finally, when he thought there was no fluids left inside him at all, Roadbuster was done, pulling his tongue back and nuzzling the valve with a grunt of satisfaction.
> 
> And then, finally, First Responder was put back down, spread and arranged to Roadbuster's satisfaction, and that -- huge! -- orange and green spike pressed against his opening.
> 
> For a moment, First Responder clenched in anxiety, at the size of the spike and the loss of the fluids, and Roadbuster looked up at him. "Okay?" First Responder's spark went out, seeing Roadbuster's fear of rejection in his deep voice and pale blue visor, and he lifted his arms and legs, hugging as much of Roadbuster as he could reach. 
> 
> "Please. I want you so much," First Responder said, pressing a kiss to Roadbuster's chest. And he did, wanted those optics to show pure pleasure even if it tore First Responder apart inside.
> 
> Roadbuster didn't--quite--say thank you, but he clutched at First Responder gently, holding him close as the huge spike slid in, ever so slowly and carefully, and the pain of First Aid's valve opening was lost in the sight and sound of Roadbuster's pure pleasure.

First Aid unwrapped his arms from his own chest and reached deep into subspace for one of his most carefully guarded possessions -- his Roadbuster body pillow. Because more than any of the rest of the Wreckers, Roadbuster just seemed to need a hug.

First Aid wrapped himself around it, "It's okay, I'm there for you, it's okay, I'm not afraid --" he murmured to himself. "I can take everything you have--" he ground his valve against the pillow, groping for the extra-large orange and green spike he had bought for his 'Roadbuster'.


	4. Sandstorm and Broadside

> Sandstorm pet him all over, telling First Responder how cute he was, and how good he looked covered in paint transfers and lubricants and fluids. First Responder writhed in embarrassment over the praise, retracting his faceplate to hide, though he had no shame over his wide wet valve. 
> 
> "Don't hide your cute mouth, baby!" Sandstorm pouted and stroked First Responder's faceplate, coaxing it back open to pull him into a gentle kiss, then an excited one, as the rotors over his head purred in pleasure. 
> 
> First Responder moaned in pleasure, forgetting his shame as he clutched at Sandstorm. 
> 
> Broadside loomed quiet and huge behind the other triple changer. "Ready?" he asked, an edge of _frustration_ in his voice that First Responder ached to fix. 
> 
> "Just a sec!" Sandstorm said, bending over First Responder and lining himself up. "You're all ready right?" He pet the valve one more time then positioned his spike over him, his own panel already open and ready for Broadside. 
> 
> "Please--" First Responder said, moaning as Broadside pushed into Sandstorm, and then Sandstorm into First Responder, stretching him wide and covering him with the weight and power and width of two Wreckers.
> 
> Sandstorm kept talking as he moved, and as Broadside moved him, slamming him deep into First Responder's valve -- "So good so tight, so big, oh slag yes, pound me into him harder, you're gonna love this little valve, 'Sides baby, you're gonna love this big broad spike, doc baby--!" 
> 
> It was like having them both at once, and the thought of that -- the impossible stretch -- pushed First Aid into overload, moaning and clenching around Sandstorm's length. Broadside pushed in _deep_ , and Sandstorm howled and his rotors whirred and he spilled his charge deep inside First Responder. 
> 
> "He's so warm and ready..." Sandstorm slid out from between them so he could spreading First Responder's wet open valve and offer it to Broadside. "All yours."
> 
> Broadside growled, pushed Sandstorm's hands away, and shoved right in, hard and fast and rough, even rougher than he had been in Sandstorm's wider valve, and Sandstorm held First Responder's hand and told him how _good_ he was, then slid the hand down to his own valve, petting himself with the forged medic's fingers and letting First Aid feel how wide his own valve was going to be now...

First Aid shoved both his hands between his legs, spreading himself as wide as he could get, offering himself to the Wreckers depicted on his ceiling...and it almost seemed like Broadside smiled. Illusory, of course, but he indulged the fantasy, seeing himself open and ready to take Broadside's frustration and turn it to pleasure.

And take his spike, too. First Aid had no spike built to match Broadside's, so he grabbed one at random - all of them were wide - and pushed it inside, pretending he could feel the weight of the Wreckers above him as he moved it.


	5. Rack 'n' Ruin

> Rack 'n' Ruin drove into First Responder's valve from behind, pounding the kneeling mech with one spike after another, as brutal as their hammer and anvil and with the coordination of mechs joined for thousands of vorns. 
> 
> First Responder gasped, bracing himself with all of his strength, face pressed against the berth as his valve was filled and empty and filled again. Once and again, he tried to reach back behind him, to touch Rack 'n' Ruin or give a hand to the neglected spike, but his arms weren't long enough, and he needed his hands to hold himself in position. He moaned in frustration, emptied again and again, if only he could please Rack 'n' Ruin at once--!
> 
> "Wait!" He gasped out between thrusts. "I have an idea, please -- let me flip over --" 
> 
> The thrusting paused, and then, one switch later, Rack 'n' Ruin pulled back and out. "Too much for you?" they grunted, pain and frustration resounding through the insult. 
> 
> First Responder signed. "Never," he said, flipping over, reaching up to offer the poor conjoined 'Cons a hug. "We can go back to the other way, if you don't like this. Stand by the berth--no, by the side. I want to take both of you at once."
> 
> Rack 'n' Ruin laughed bitterly. "Mechs have _tried_." But they positioned themselves as instructed, spikes still painfully hard. 
> 
> First Responder had estimated correctly: the distance between Rack's spike and Ruin's was almost exactly the same as the distance between First Aid's mouth and valve. He retracted his faceplate, grinning and lining himself up. It was going to be a bit hard on his back struts, but he could take it! "Who wants which?" 
> 
> Rack 'n' Ruin's spikes got impossibly even harder when they saw what First Responder was offering. "Can flip you over later," the mouth nearer First Responder's valve said, as two strong hands grabbed First Responder's hand and hip, pulling him close and filling him simultaneously in the mouth and in the valve. 
> 
> First Responder groaned around the spike, clinging to Rack 'n' Ruin's legs as best he could as he was filled and taken, identical spikes moving synchronously in his valve and his mouth, working both holes nearly as brutally as his valve had been, earlier--and far more consistently. 
> 
> First Responder was forced into overload early, the wash of overcharge overwhelming the pain of his his sore back (and valve, and intake). Rack 'n' Ruin moved relentlessly, filling First Responder again and again, slowly, gradually building to an overpowering overload. Fluid and charge exploded simultaneously in First Aid's valve and intake, pushing him over once again in the knowledge that he'd given Rack 'n' Ruin something they thought they'd never have again....

First Aid clutched his double body pillow, bending them apart in a way the real Rack 'n' Ruin never could, embracing them, snuggling and comforting in a way he could never write down. Wreckers did not cuddle, and Rack 'n' Ruin were not built for it; but First Aid had been drawn to their tragedy, two mechs welded together so they could never embrace.

He wanted to give them that, through his body. Wanted to make them happy again, and be folded in their arms.


	6. Whirl

> "How cosy." The voice was unmistakable, even though they had managed to miss Whirl's arrival altogether.
> 
> Rack 'n' Ruin's grip on First Responder tightened defensively. "Yeah. His valve is real nice." "Mouth, too." "All yours--for what use you can make of him."
> 
> They dropped First Responder back on the berth and stalked out, leaving First Responder alone with Whirl. 
> 
> "Ugh, mechs think it's all about shoving your spike into things," Whirl said. "More to life than _having a spike_ you know." Whirl circled him, petting his guns suggestively. "Lot more to bein' well-endowed than ol' hammer-and-anvil could ever know."
> 
> He advanced on First Responder, his whole head moving as he gave the 'bot a once-over. "So." A pincher gripped one of First Responder's thighs, surprisingly gently. "Ya want a gun up that sloppy hole of yours, or do you got a spike I can use?"
> 
> First Responder shivered, leaning up to put his hands on Whirl's arms, craving the physical contact. "Do I have to choose just one?"
> 
> Whirl laughed. "Course not." He tapped the area above the valve with one of his pinchers. "How 'bout I put my gun in that hole and we'll see what you can dig up for me." 
> 
> First Responder sighed in pleasure, clinging to Whirl's chest and shoulders as he was lifted high up, lining his valve up with Whirl's chest-guns. "Can--take care of your needs first--!" He broke off in a moan as one of the guns slid smoothly inside, warm and vibrating with power and danger. 
> 
> "Don't have needs. Not the way the rest of them do." Whirl grumped, but he looked down at First Responder avidly, working the small medic up and down his gun. "It's a good look on ya, though."
> 
> First Responder moaned, clinging helplessly with his legs now, the larger, stronger Wrecker taking all control over him -- fatally, if that gun went off. There was just one thing he needed to do -- oh. His spike. It was hard to think of his spike at a moment like this -- when he was blissfully filled -- but he managed, triggering the appropriate coding to open the spike cover and extend the spike. He sighed at the loss of pressure inside him, valve loosening significantly without the spike pressed alongside it. 
> 
> "Not bad." Whirl said, still moving him on the gun -- and maybe a little harder now. "Rub it with those cute little hands, make it slick for me." 
> 
> First Responder groaned and obeyed. There was no finesse in his grip, it was as much as he could do to grab and rub at all. Luckily, any discomfort from inadept rubbing was lost in the pleasure from his valve. 
> 
> First Responder was almost to the point of overload when he was abruptly - and roughly - removed from the gun and placed back on the berth, making a small pained sound at the loss. 
> 
> "Good enough," Whirl declared, and he climbed on top, straddling First Responder's spike. 
> 
> "...May I touch, first?" First Responder knew how difficult it could be for an empurata victim to discuss or reveal his mutilated hardware, but, he told himself, he needed to know Whirl was truly ready. 
> 
> "Curious little medic," Whirl chided, but shrugged. "Why not. Get your cute little hands up my hole, cutie." 
> 
> First Responder reached up between Whirl's legs, gently outlining the hole with his fingers. He invented sharply, trying to restrain his horror; the mesh and the sensornet had been stripped, he knew that, the spike extracted and discarded along with most of the valve, leaving only a hole: that, he thought he had been prepared for. But it still just -- it was so horribly wrong, and his medical instinct yearned to _fix_ it.
> 
> And then there was the other damage. It was almost a relief, to turn his attention to that, damage that could at least be soothed and repaired. There were traces of a permanently attached cover panel, which had been yanked off and screwed on again, repeatedly; most recently, from the damage, just a few breems ago. "I should make you a removable panel."
> 
> Whirl laughed. "It is removable, silly medic. Removed it just today."
> 
> "But, I mean -- " First Responder restrained himself. It was important, in these cases, to match the patients _needs_ , not the doctor's idea of 'normal'. "If you wish any modification, you need only ask."
> 
> "Mmm, how about you 'modify' your little fingers into my hole, then follow 'em with your spike?" 
> 
> "As you wish--" First Responder pressed a finger gently inside, restraining his reaction to the scorched, torn entrance. Whirl had been - used - frequently since his mutilation, and his partners had not been careful. Inside- there was space enough, the hard metal warped and softened by use. Medical instincts dew up treatment plans in the back of his processor as he pressed in a second finger. 
> 
> He'd thought it was all from his own fingers, at first, but no-there were unmistakable traces of lubrication inside-even though Whirl should be incapable of producing it. He pulled his fingers out, lifting them to his face, chemosensors working on identifying the fluid.
> 
> "You like that?" Whirl wiggled on top of him, emphasizing his empty valve. "I heard ya liked sloppy seconds so I got Impactor to do me. Slick me up for you."
> 
> "Oh!" First Responder slid his finger into his mouth - it did, indeed, taste of Impactor. 
> 
> "Yeah, suck that for me." While First Responder was distracted, Whirl had moved, and his hole was now pressing against the tip of First Responder's spike. "Gimme a show while I ride ya."
> 
> First Responder gasped, considering making a protest -- was Whirl really ready? -- but he didn't want to take the fingers out of his mouth, and in any case, the hole slid down his spike easily -- somewhat oversized for First Responder, no doubt from Impactor's -- use. 
> 
> "Ah, I'm too loose for you." Whirl said, shifting on the spike, leaning over First Responder. "Knew I shoulda gotten someone smaller to do me -- oh, well. Can fix it easy enough -- no, don't stop sucking, little medic." 
> 
> First Responder obediently refocused on his finger -- the taste of Impactor was nearly gone, replaced by the fantasy of repairing Whirl and doing this for him one day, finger or spike -- and therefore missed what Whirl was doing below until his spike was suddenly squeezed painfully tight. He gasped around his fingers, almost biting down on himself in the pain. 
> 
> "Ah, that's more like it." Whirl threw his head back -- if this had hurt him, he clearly didn't mind -- and started moving, long, hard thrusts down onto First Responder, building charge as fast and hard and rough as his teammates had used First Responder's valve. 
> 
> "I wanna feel you overload in my hole." Whirl was surprisingly coherent for the way he was riding First Responder's spike. "Touch your valve if you need ta, I'd do it for ya but I'm not equipped." 
> 
> "Yes -- of course--" First Responder considered trying to reach down past Whirl to give himself a hand, but he didn't want to interfere with Whirl riding his spike. He plunged two fingers into his mouth, instead, and contracted his valve in time with Whirl's thrusts, and it was enough to send him over. "Whirl --" he moaned, as his spike filled Whirl's hole with charge and fluid. 
> 
> Whirl gasped and moaned above him, driving down hard to take him deep as the charge exploded inside of him. "Ah, yes -- burns so good --" Whirl wiggled on top of First Responder, savoring the feeling for a moment, then pulled off, letting himself collapse next to First Responder.
> 
> First Aid wrapped his arms around Whirl. "I can make it so much better for you," he promised. "Just let me help..."

First Aid stopped himself there, just...allowing himself to bask in the fantasy he would never write down, of fixing Whirl's hands and face and interface hardware, of showing him -- so gently -- the joys of pleasure and love and care.

And of opening his arms and legs for him, looking up into Whirl's new face as his new spike slid, for the very first time, into a valve -- First Aid's valve.

**Author's Note:**

> This is all for now. There may be more Wreckers added as inspiration hits!


End file.
